Adventures with Zumba...

I go to the gym and I really don’t enjoy it. In an effort to fight the effects of aging, I decided a while back ago it was time to do something about it. Now I have seen results, and I appreciate myself for the effort, don’t get me wrong. However, I wouldn’t call my version of working out exactly healthy. Keep in mind, I am probably the only person you will see putting out a cigarette as I enter the gym, and lighting one the second I walk out. My body type would best be described as skinny/ fat. In clothes I appear to be relatively skinny, however when I’m naked, I’m very much built like a milk dud. You know the last milk dud at the bottom of the box that’s melted and refuses to come loose until you rip open the box to get it? Yeah that’s me. Rather than think of myself as chunky, I prefer to think of myself as over-inflated with love and understanding. If you are flabby I think of you as under-inflated with appreciation. Of course if you are in perfect shape, with very low body fat, and you eat the perfect diet…you’re a complete dick.


I chose Zumba as a break from the monotony of going to the gym. I love Latin music and I have noticed that everyone that walks out of the class is sweating profusely. Lifting weights and doing cardio on a machine just gets completely boring. Also, I’m unsure what it is about the motion on an elliptical machine that stirs up my insides, but eventually I’m going to fart. I’m not proud of that at all, trust me. So Zumba literally seemed like a great way to mix it up a little, and a chance to enjoy the view. As a 40 year old, the thought of being in a class full of sweaty housewives, shaking their butts is just a bit more than enticing, it’s a dream come true. My first class was way more than I could have ever imagined, and now I wish someone would have warned me.


First of all, I can shake my ass like a madman and, believe it or not, I have incredible rhythm. I thought the class would be easy and I smiled as all the housewives piled into the studio. As I had predicted, I was the only guy in the class and I was excited to show the ladies what this man is made of. Then the instructor walked in and all my excitement turned to absolute fear. She was built, okay that’s an understatement, actually she was molded by God himself and put on this earth to make men quiver in her presence. Standing at a commanding 5 foot and an inch or so, she had a smile that said, “I’m going to make you remember this.” I was instantly worried.


The music started and all the ladies assumed their positions in an orderly fashion, as I imagined they probably picked the very same spot to stand in every class they attended. I was positioned in the back row so I wouldn’t discourage anyone early on if they couldn’t keep up. One minute in, and the overwhelming thought that hit me was “God, I’m really good at this!” The steps were easy to follow and I was tearing it up. By minute 5, I was so exhausted that I literally started lactating. It really felt like my boobs were leaking some secret sauce that only Zumba can extract. That’s when I felt my taint. Now normally your taint is a very lonely place on your body. It’s hard to shave, rarely thought of, and generally over looked in the long run. I now have a commanding respect for my taint. Once you stretch and pull it, you’ll never forget it. It very much felt like I was sitting on a campfire.


Within 15 minutes I was limping out of class, with my chafed leaky nipples, my stretched taint, and my pride dragging on the floor behind me. Lying down on a bench in the men’s locker room was probably not my best idea. I’m unsure why but my gyms locker room seems like a great place for naked men to stand around and talk. Whenever I walk in, I always exclaim out loud, “Smells like sex in here,” and then laugh to myself. It’s much like a gay buffet. So many choices and I’m certain you can get a little of everything if you were inclined. Bring a bib because I’m certain it gets messy in there. Anyway, within minutes of lying there, Frederick (he is a gentleman and introduced himself) approaches me and asks me if I’m okay. I open my eyes and right next to my face is hanging the largest penis I have ever seen in my life. I thought I was dizzy at first, but actually the reason my eyes were crossed was because this gigantic appendage was right in my face. Look guys, this is just a side note, I don’t mind you hanging out naked and enjoying one another’s company, but do you all have to be hung like horses? Seriously, I would be proud as well if I was sporting an elephant trunk, capable of picking up and moving fallen trees. However, sending the rest of us home bitter and resentful of our family genes is a bit much. Whatever, I’m not bitter (fuckers).


Now, I absolutely love Zumba. I highly recommend it and I try to attend at least one class a week. I’m committed to practicing at night, and tonight will be my first foray into the solo practice of “The Forbidden Dance.” I drain my fifth glass of wine as I search for my IPod Shuffle (yep, I’m old school), and realize once I find it that the only music that I have stored that can possibly inspire me to take on this adventure is the soundtrack from “The Man From La Mancha.” No I won’t explain or elaborate why I have this stored… (That space intentionally left blank).


I immediately head for the medicine cabinet as I know I will need to prepare for this undertaking. I’m rubbing Neosporin on my nipples and sensitive taint. I’m not making that mistake again. Respect your nipples and taint. I’m in my boxers and flip flops and clip my IPod to my left nipple to secure it (that’s how I roll). Incidentally, the engineers at Apple put a lot of thought into that clip, so be prepared, it’s not for amateurs.


Tonight I will dance as I never have. I begin without hesitation, as my nipple has already turned the same color as my purple wine stained tongue. IPod clips are no joke. So I begin my dance…God, I’m really good at this…



Matt Greer